


Seeing You Clearly

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie, yespolkadot_kitty



Series: As You Are [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Disabled Reader, F/M, Fluff, Loki - Freeform, spoonie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 14:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20529584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: A reader insert series about a spoonie Stark Industries IT tech who finds a kindred spirit in Loki, God of Spoons, because it's hard being different on the inside.





	Seeing You Clearly

**Author's Note:**

> What started as a request by rueniverse for a series based on Loki's relationship with a Spoonie became a bigger beast than I had intended, and now it has taken on a life of it's own, with the help of yespolkadot_kitty. I hope this series is up to snuff!

“How are you fairing today, darling?” Loki asked warmly as he strolled into the ensuite bathroom, leaving the door open so that he could hear your response.

You groaned and shifted slightly on the bed, sitting up carefully and stretching your limbs one by one to test the severity of the ever-present discomfort, ranging on a moment to moment basis from a mild ache to pain so intense that it takes your breath away. Your lips pressed together thoughtfully and you shrugged in the general direction of the bathroom, even though he couldn’t see it. “Not so bad so far, but the day is young. You know how fast it can change.”

He came back into the bedroom, a full glass of water in one hand and a pill organizer in the other. His long legs tucked beneath him as he sat next to you on the bed, handing you the glass of water so he could use both hands to dump out the pills marked for ‘Saturday AM’ into his palm. He deposited them into your waiting hand before rubbing your back in soothing, long strokes, applying slightly more pressure on the tense muscles when he encountered them.

After downing the pills and half the water, he took the water from you and set it on your nightstand before turning back to you. He had a soft smile for you, filled with warmth, as you ran your fingers through your tangled hair and rolled your neck to loosen the kinks there. Your hand came to rest on the silky smooth fabric of his tailored slacks over his knee, stroking the fabric while you mentally prepared yourself to get out of bed and get going for the day.

With your pain level relatively low compared to normal, you felt fairly confident that you could at least tend to your morning routine without his help. “Can you grab a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for me? I think I can get the rest. That way you can get on with your day since you decided that you _had_ to come over here and check on me before work.”

He rolled his eyes at your tone. "As you know, it is such a hardship for me to spend time with the mortal I love. I try to avoid it."

You chuckled.

“Of course I’ll help you, love,” he said in answer to your original question."Would you care for anything specific for breakfast before I head to Stark Tower?” he asked, watching you with patient concern when you slid to the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle yourself too much.

“I’m not really hungry,” you muttered in reply, grunting from the effort it took to stand up and the lightning-quick flash of pain sizzling over your nerves. It was gone almost instantly, though, leaving just the dull but annoying ache that you had learned to cope with. Your statement wasn’t a lie, oftentimes the pain made you a bit queasy, but you’d feel even worse if you didn’t eat.

He stood up as you did and stooped to kiss your cheek and ghost his fingers over your shoulder before heading down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “You’re eating breakfast. End of discussion.”

“End of discussion,” you mocked, imitating his perfectly accented British voice, James Bond with just a touch of sin. You stuck your tongue out in the direction of the kitchen with a roll of your eyes.

His low, confident laugh carried easily through the apartment. “I can see that tongue, kitten. I’ll make you use it on me later.”

“In your dreams,” you called out snarkily, before shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, effectively ending your bantering.

When you were able to drag yourself out into your tiny kitchen, Loki stood at the counter, preparing scrambled eggs, thinly sliced avocado and strips of shiny, pink smoked salmon.

It beat the hell out of the possibly expired Lucky Charms you’d planned to have.

“Thanks,” you beamed up at him as you slid into a chair at the table that served as a dining table and a catch-all for dumping all kinds of other stuff.

“I’m determined that you’ll eat something other than what we will generously call food on this puny planet,” he groused, sitting next to you.

“Says the man who eats cans of cheese whiz like they’ll be discontinued.”

You dug into the breakfast. It was _good_. You ate it and tried not to worry about the time that this tall, snarky, impossibly kind, grumpy, sexy Asgardian got tired of you and walked away. Because it always teased at the back of your mind.

*****

Ugh. You both loved and hated these black tie, big band affairs. Tony was ever a fan of parties and this one was no different. To be fair, he included everyone, even IT techs like yourself, in these shindigs. You loved going, although it destroyed you. You saved as many spoons as you could in advance of a ball Tony was throwing.

You paused at the mouth of the big, elegant ballroom as Cap appeared pushing a wheelchair. It was state of the art, sleek, gunmetal grey. It had been festooned with burgundy ribbons to match your dress, and you looked from it to Cap’s earnest, handsome face.

“Here’s one I made earlier,” he began. He’d been using his free time to catch up on TV from the 80s and 90s, and his BBC binge had started with Dr Who and had continued with Blue Peter repeats. “You know. In case you need it later.”

Other people at the party had noticed him steering it towards you, and you faltered, uneasy with your limitations being made concrete and essentially presented to you in lieu of a gift. But you knew Cap had meant well. He was goodness and light personified. He’d thought of you with his whole heart and you hated that it still stung.

“Thank you,” you managed to eke out.

“Seven _hells_, just hang a sign around her neck, why don’t you?” Loki snapped from behind Cap.

You looked over. The tall Asgardian wore a severe black suit, black shirt, black tie. His hair was pulled back in a loose cue, his angular features accentuated by the spotlights overhead in the ballroom. His shrewd green eyes passed over your face. He always saw more than you wanted to reveal, it seemed.

“I didn’t-” Cap started, looking crestfallen.

You went to put a hand to his arm. “It’s okay. I appreciate it. Maybe you could stow it behind the curtain if I need it later?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Cap regained some of his pep and went to do ask you asked, Sam following, sending you a smile. You and Sam shared an insane love of grilled cheese sandwiches and had quickly bonded.

Loki caught your gaze and held it. “I know something about appearing just as others on the outside, but not being so on the inside,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, for your ears only.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, bowled over. Unsure of what to do about his unexpected kindness. Wrong footed by the God of Mischief and without any idea what to do about it.

He cupped your elbow. “Care to dance?”

****

Loki tucked you into what you lovingly referred to as your “duvet nest” on the sofa after you’d eaten breakfast and drunk two cups of Earl Grey tea - his preferred blend. You’d gotten used to it, and now the scent reminded you comfortingly of him when he was away.

"What were you thinking about, over breakfast?" He asked. "You looked preoccupied."

"About that night. The gala," you answered honestly.

He quirked one slim, dark brow. "When I saw you clearer than any of our motley crew ever have, despite what they insist on calling powers," he drawled.

You grinned. "You said ours. Aw."

He frowned. "I tolerate them for your sake. Ensure you eat enough, kitten,” he added silkily, stroking a long finger down your chin. “Even if it is those _deplorable_ microwave meals you keep in the ice box.”

“I will.”

He leaned down to kiss you, and as ever, the taste of him lit a little fire inside you. You slid a hand up into his hair, tugging until he nipped at your lips the way you liked. He would always retain some wildness, and you loved that.

“Be sure you do. I have plans for you later, and you will require at least three of your spoons.” When he got to the door he called back; “And no pleasuring yourself whilst I am working in Stark’s hovel.”

As if you would. Why waste spoons when you knew what he’d be doing to you later?

You booted up your laptop and got to work.


End file.
